


Muffled Scream

by watcherofworlds



Series: Whumptober 2019 [18]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Episode: s02e23 Unthinkable, Gen, Missing Scene, Prompt Fill, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 00:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watcherofworlds/pseuds/watcherofworlds
Summary: Prompt fill for Whumptober Day 18 "Muffled Scream"





	Muffled Scream

Felicity stood alone in the center of the entrance hall in the Queen mansion, still feeling shaken. She kept repeating the events of a few minutes ago in her head, over and over again.

“I love you,” Oliver had said in that soft voice he only used with her, and for a moment she’d thought it was real, believed that he’d meant it, until she felt him slip a syringe full of the Mirakuru cure into her hand and he’d whispered “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she had answered, because she did- none of it was real. He was only telling her that he loved her because he knew that somehow, somewhere, Slade was listening, and this was the only plan that would work, the only way to lure him into a position where injecting him with the cure was even a remote possibility. She also understood the enormous amount of trust that Oliver was placing in her by entrusting her with all they had left of the cure, trust she might have felt gratified by if she still hadn’t still been trying to recover from the emotional blow of having her worst suspicions confirmed- he didn’t, and never would, feel the same way about her as she did about him. He might fake it, pretend that he did for the sake of luring their enemy into a trap, but he would never truly feel it.

Felicity drew in a shaky breath that was only barely not a sob and refocused on the matter at hand. Not that there was much for her to focus on, all alone in the dark, empty mansion. All she was really doing was waiting for Slade to fall for Oliver’s ruse and come and snatch her. She only wondered just how long that would take.

Suddenly, there came a crashing sound, like breaking glass or perhaps splintering wood, from somewhere in the mansion, a ways off but still loud enough to make Felicity jump. A moment later, she heard the thump of heavy, running footsteps, and one of Slade’s Mirakuru soldiers came barreling around the corner, into the entrance hall where Felicity was standing. He stopped in his tracks instead of coming straight for her, and the crazed gleam alight in his eyes- the only part of his face she could see behind his orange and black mask- had her backing slowly away from him in spite of herself.She knew that he was here to take her to Slade, that the plan she and Oliver had come up with in the silences between the things they _did_ say relied on her  _ letting _ herself be taken, but in that moment she was unable to stop herself from letting her fear take over and dictate her actions. After all, as far as she’d discerned, they hadn’t planned for  _ this _ . They’d been expecting Slade to come for himself, not send one of his men to do the dirty work. But as Felicity continued to back slowly away from the Mirakuru soldier and he continued to stalk slowly after her, something occurred to her suddenly- Oliver must have known that this would happen, must have realized the same thing that had just now become clear to Felicity- that Slade wouldn’t consider kidnapping her to be the dirty work. That was why he’d sent one of his men to do it- because what he _ did _ consider to be the dirty work- killing her in front of Oliver and thereby enacting his final revenge- was a task no one but him was worthy of carrying out, and anything else besides it was beneath him.

All of a sudden, the soldier lost patience, got tired of stalking her, and charged forward at impossible, superhuman speed. Felicity screamed and ran for the door, partly because her fear had taken over her again and partly because she knew she had to make this look convincing, but the solider reached her in an instant, tackling her to the ground, his weight landing on top of her, and clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the scream still tearing its way out of her. Then he wrapped her up in a grip so tight that she couldn’t possibly escape it no matter how much she struggled and thrashed, a sick, twisted parody of an embrace, and got to his feet, lifting her into the air. Then he crashed straight through the front door of the mansion without hesitation or pause, and carried her off to wherever it was that his master was waiting to kill her.


End file.
